


Earth (ENG)

by NaitiaClo960



Series: Suptober 2020 (ENG) [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Violence, Buried Alive, Explicit Language, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hurt Dean Winchester, Suptober 2020 (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26772016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaitiaClo960/pseuds/NaitiaClo960
Summary: When Sam first exposed the case to him in the bunker library, Dean's first thought was a serial killer. Although the crimes are filthy, it was nothing that a human cannot do, they had sadly witnessed it many times already. Only came the second problem: two of the six victims had a missing heart and a third had been lacerated to death on a full moon night. It didn’t take any more for the Winchesters to load the Impala and drive in one shot to Indiana, the suspicions of a werewolf clearly settled in their minds.[Suptober, day 2]
Series: Suptober 2020 (ENG) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951687
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17
Collections: Suptober 2020 (ENG)





	Earth (ENG)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to Amber and Alice Blackheart for their corrections :)  
> Enjoy!

This hunt had been a succession of false leads and complications until Dean finally set a foot in this old abandoned barn at the end of an orchard. Starting from the beginning, it’s now been a week since Sam and Dean followed the corpses of this case that kept accumulating day after day. The first victim was a little girl who was taken from her parents and found hanging from the flag bearer of the police station where her father worked. The next, oddly enough, was a dog killed and cut into pieces — that they had not entirely found yet— before being sent back to its owner. The next four victims were found in equally horrific conditions, and Dean had a grimace of disgust as he read the autopsy reports.

The first problem they faced was the random nature of each of the murders. The victims did not know each other, likely had nothing in common except for the city in which they lived and all had very different profiles. Karen smoked at least ten cigarettes packs a day and a lot of bourbon to cap it all, Jonathan was an assertive sportsman and vegan, Liam’s gastric ring was about to explode, young Lizzy was a fan of _The Little Mermaid_ , Anna already had three divorces under her belt but made the best cupcakes in his catechism club, Toby the dog had a hip prosthesis and it didn’t make any fucking sense to Dean’s poor brain! Absolutely _nothing_ could connect these people, they had never even crossed before ending up in the refrigerated airlocks of the morgue.

When Sam first exposed the case to him in the bunker library, Dean's first thought was a serial killer. Although the crimes are filthy, it was nothing that a human cannot do, they had sadly witnessed it many times already. Only came the second problem: two of the six victims had a missing heart and a third had been lacerated to death on a full moon night. It didn’t take any more for the Winchesters to load the Impala and drive in one shot to Indiana, the suspicions of a werewolf clearly settled in their minds.

Unfortunately, the following victims came to refute their theory and Dean felt that Sam was about to tear his hair out in front of the new autopsy reports that once again confused their nascent leads. The killer, or killers, likely liked to be noticed in view of the imaginative killings they carried out, but not the slightest mistake was made on their part during their gloomy activities. In a last resort, Dean had called Castiel to the rescue, but even angelic expertise had not helped the search. Thus, the three of them found themselves in another seedy motel in Indiana, distraught, before Sam let out an exclamation in disbelief.

'What?" Dean groaned from the edge of his bed.

Sam didn’t mind, his eyes fixed on his computer.

"The killer likes to be noticed! Why didn’t I think of that earlier?" He said, bringing his hair back from a hand movement. "If he wants us to pay attention to him, then it’s in his best interest to leave hints at the crime scenes! We kept looking between the lines, but forgot to examine what was right under our noses! Check this…"

Dean and Castiel shared a puzzled look before getting up and joining Sam behind his screen. On the computer were dozens of open tabs with different photos of victims and crime scenes. After a quick manipulation, Sam rearranged some of them to line them up according to an apparent logic before slamming his hand against his table.

"There!" Sam exclaimed as he leaned back in his chair. "All those weird positions in which the bodies were found were not due to bad luck or hazard. If we look at them from above and assemble them like this, we get the same symbol present on at least four victims! Police thought it was a bruise caused by blows, but I did a graphic recognition and everything brings us to Cycnus’ symbol!" Sam concludes, speaking quickly because of the excitement of a discovery after days of nothingness.

"Who?" Dean asked, arching an eyebrow. Everything his brother said made sense, but while Sam had pronounced the name of "Cycnus" as evidence, he was lost.

"Cycnus!" Sam said again with a hint of annoyance this time, opening another Internet tab to unveil a battlefield print. "According to some versions, he would be the son of Poseidon or Ares, we don’t really know… Still, he’s supposed to be dead, buried alive, for centuries now. But its symbol is the only coherent element we’ve had for a week."

Dean frowned, his eyes focused on the shield of the drawing bearing the symbol present at the crime scenes. A serious and thoughtful hum resonated to his left and Dean turned his head towards Castiel, seeming as stunned as he was. Finally, the angel spoke.

"Cycnus is the son of many gods and legends according to the Greeks, but what is certain is that he is not dead. His mother Calyce sold his soul to save his son’s, Balthazar was in charge of the report at the time… He had a strong taste for violence in the Trojan War."

At these words, Sam and Dean exchanged a serious look before looking back at Castiel. The angel pinched his lips. They had a bloodthirsty demigod to deal with…

* * *

A few more hours of researching had made it possible to find Cycnus' lair who had been pretending to be a wealthy orchard owner for more than a decade now. The link was there: each victim had already gone at least once to the Cycnus’ orchard, even this poor dog. Finding the main property empty and visibly abandoned in haste, the boys had then decided to separate to search the huge orchard of several hectares in order to get their hands on a second hideout. Thus Dean had found himself alone in this old, isolated barn, moving cautiously before being surprised by two unappealing mountains of muscles.

In no time, Dean had drawn his semi-automatic, but it was without counting on a third henchman attacking him from behind. Able to rely on his reflexes, the hunter managed to dodge the assault, but was forced to drop his weapon to escape the grip of the brute. Dean quickly dug into a corner of the barn and estimated the situation. He sent a smirk to the three men getting dangerously close to him.

"What are you girls doing here? It’s not the perfect place for an orgy version of Brokeback Mountain." He says with a grunt while evaluating his retaliation options.

A high-pitched whistle from farther in the building made them all freeze. Finally, appeared the man Dean was looking for, his smug look perfectly matching the photo that Sam had found of him earlier. Cycnus stood a few steps away from him, apparently confident and relaxed. He whistled a second time as he laid eyes on Dean, admiring him this time.

"A hunter, I’m impressed." He smiles coldly. "I expected I’d have to deal with the feds before I got your miserable attention, but I guess everything is getting lost these days…"

Dean snorted with disdain.

"Each to his own, I guess. You chop up puppies and I’m here to kick the horrible thing you call your ass. It’s mutual benefit, bastard." Dean’s back hit a wall and he pinched his lips, opportunities to turn the situation to his advantage being reduced by the minute.

Cycnus was content to remain in the retreat, but did not lose this mocking expression. Enraged, Dean went all in by pulling out the combat knife he kept inside his jacket.

"Bring him to me." Cycnus ordered his henchmen in a soft voice.

In a heartbeat, Dean was in the battle. Although he expected that a demigod would be difficult to confront hand-to-hand, he had not suspected that his sidekicks would be more than human. Whatever monsters they had been turned into, they were much stronger and faster than three morons blindly obeying their boss. It was no longer a matter of buying time until Sam and Castiel joined him from now on, he had to survive the attacks coming from all sides. Too quickly to his liking, however, a punch in the belly cut his breath before two hands hit his ears violently. Dean distinctly felt his eardrums give way under the impact and fell heavily to the ground, dizzy and unable to regain his senses. He grumbled, his eyes hazy and his head ready to explode, blood flowing from his right ear. Despite this, he distinctly heard an unpleasant laugh over the deafening buzz in his skull.

"What are we going to do with you, little hunter?" The voice was still as taunt, though distant, and Dean clenched his fists through the pain, feeling two weights holding him to the ground. "Hanging is still effective, it gives showmanship, but it would be a bit redundant, don’t you think?"

Dean briefly thought of little Lizzy before a pair of perfect shoes appeared in his blurry sight. The buzzing did not go away, and when Dean tried to move, he found himself unable to as Cycnus' sidekicks had effectively immobilized him on the ground.

"Why all the drama?" Dean groaned, barely hearing the words.

Another giggle.

"Because I want everyone to know that anyone who disrespects me will be punished. I used to be a king!" Cycnus suddenly roared. "They respected me, they were afraid to challenge me! Now even a dirty mutt thinks he can urinate on my apples without consequences." Cycnus seemed to swell with anger although Dean could not look up to confirm it. "All mortals, however loathsome, must understand that I am superior to them, my reign is not over. That despicable sheriff had it coming. He thought he could steal my precious money and spit on my work, so I took his little girl away. This is just a fair return. Everyone who opposes me will have to answer for their actions."

Dean clenched his jaw, helplessness slowly invading him. This guy was not only a demigod with a serious superiority complex, he had above all completely lost his mind.

"But for you," Cycnus resumed, "I have exactly what it takes. One of my favorite methods, really…"

Dean did not have time to protest until a powerful blow to the back of the skull knocked him out, he sank into unconsciousness with fright. The whistle faded and then nothing.

* * *

The first thing he felt when he came to was this crushing sensation, the body heavy and still. Frowning softly, the smell of petrichor suddenly invaded his nostrils and Dean opened his worried and panicked eyes. He barely had time to distinguish a flash of light — branches of trees perhaps? — before a thick stream of earth came to cover his vision. The sounds remained confused around him, but he effortlessly discerned the noises of shovels throwing soil over him and his heart skipped a beat. Sam’s voice suddenly rings in his head.

_Cycnus, he’s supposed to be dead. Buried alive._

Immediately, adrenaline and fear invaded Dean’s brain and his muscles set in motion. Now his face was completely covered with dirt and opening his eyes was out of the question, but he would run out of air very quickly if he stayed there doing nothing. Laboriously, he tried to bring his arms close to his face, pushing the earth that nailed him to the spot, but each new progress resulted in twice as much soil accumulating around his limbs. Groaning, he took several minutes to achieve his ends, carefully gasping in a narrow air pocket around his nose and mouth as he exhausted himself.

Not giving in to panic was probably the hardest thing to do. His oxygen was extremely limited and he had to calm his heartbeat if he wanted to save his precious source of air. Above him, the noises had ceased and the many layers of earth under which he was buried were like lead. He had to find a way to breathe, Sam and Castiel were bound to find him… right?

Dean swallowed back a desperate moan, his heart beating erratically against his damaged eardrums. He felt sick, his head began spinning in the face of the fatal outcome, which slowly tightened his grip on him. _He was suffocating_. Such a sensation painfully reminded him of Hell and the moment when he had to come out of his grave by the sheer force of his arms. At the time, the situation seemed almost more bearable to him: he thought he was dead and struggling with another of Alastair’s tortures. What did he have to lose, he was already dead then. But now… Now, panic gripped him despite his efforts to breathe calmly and he hated himself for it.

Finally, Dean managed to bring a hand closer to his face and he used it to enlarge the air pocket around his mouth. When he took a short breath, earth came back into his mouth and he tried to spit it out, spoiling at least two gulps of air in the process. Terrified, plunged into darkness and silence, Dean could only listen to the beating of his own heart resounding in his body until a sick degree. He couldn’t die like that.... Not like that. Not with Sam desperately looking for him on the surface. He could not even shout to alert him, the action would then drive him to suffocate. Dean was condemned.

He quickly lost track of time, the air hardly entering his lungs. It was then that he was surprised to think of the people he would leave behind if he died here, pathetically swallowed up by the ground of an orchard. His face twisted in an anxious, guilt-filled pout. The dizziness began to invade him more intensely now and he still could not bring himself to move more than that. Sensing his strength abandoning him, Dean tried to enlarge the air pocket, in vain. His muscles were slowly numbing and unconsciousness threatened to win at every moment.

However, among all these thoughts and the buzzing that came back gradually in his ears, Dean believed to hear agitation above him. He tried to focus on the source of the noise but, after long seconds, he concluded it was a hallucination. No one would find him here, he wasn’t even sure he was still in the damn orchard… He was going to die here, his body rotting in the ground and feeding the roots around him. Soon, all that Dean had ever known would be earth, rocks and plants.

His weakened mind could not even make him feel fear when his hand fell against his face, closing the air pocket. Dean sank into unconsciousness again, his lungs on fire and with the horrible impression that he would never wake up again. Perhaps he had finally done his time...

* * *

What struck him first in Hell — for it was certainly where he was now — was the freezing rain falling upon his body. However, nothing was really painful, the water did not melt his skin when it came into contact with his face and no blade pierced his body. He was just… _cold_. Confused, Dean tried to take a hesitant breath, still plunged into darkness. Immediately his lungs ignited and he uttered a guttural grunt. It was then that the agitation around him, which he had not taken the time to notice until then, ceased. One, two, three seconds during which only the rain came to resonate against the surrounding ground.

"Dean?"

He opened wide eyes, taking a big breath of fresh air before coughing painfully. In the second, cool hands helped him lean forward as he spat out handfuls of earth, forcing tears into his eyes. His mouth was dry, his nose cluttered, and he discerned the earth under his nails, but nothing really made sense. Confused, he raised his eyes to the owner of these hands still surrounding him in a reassuring way.

Castiel stood beside him, kneeling on the ground with a worried expression, stained with mud. It was then that Dean felt this warm and familiar feeling of grace running through his body, soothing his pain little by little until the next breath was less painful. Behind the angel was his brother, his clothes and arms also full of dirt, looking at him with undisguised relief. Farther still was the disfigured corpse of Cycnus and, looking behind him, Dean knew he would find his own gaping and empty tomb.

He was not dead.

"How are you feeling?" asked Castiel with concern, as Sam was already going around to look at him more closely.

Dean shook his head, feeling more dirt fall out of his hair.

"Dean?" Sam insisted with concern, obviously also out of breath.

When Castiel’s hand slipped from his shoulder, Dean held it, squeezing the cold fingers into his palm. He needed something that was alive and real. The rain continued to fall straight around them, plunging them into an apocalyptic fog, but all Dean could think about was that he was finally able to breathe the air around him. He looked into Sam’s eyes and forced a trembling smile on his dirty lips.

"… Buried alive, eh?" He said.

Sam suddenly relaxed in front of him, relieved, and sighed before drawing him into a reassuring embrace. Castiel’s hand was still in his, grabbing him back, and Dean finally felt delightfully alive. He would spend the time it takes under this rain to wash the mud from his body, to breathe the smell of wet earth with his family surrounding him. As long as they stayed together, on the surface, everything would be fine.

_It had to._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading until the end, I hope you liked it! Remember to leave a kudo or a comment if so :). You can find the whole Suptober prompt list in this collection.  
> I’ll see you tomorrow!


End file.
